Ogres
It's common legend in Sorland that ogres roam the hillside, and a few tales have spawned from this. Many of them are meant for children, but older peasants swear that the tales are true. Mjourin the Hat Stealer The first reported sighting of an ogre. A song was written by the worst bard in Sorland's history (Sven Colis) that presents the story in a jolly yet irritating manner. Mjourin was a short ogre with a bald patch at the top of his head. A farmer had scorched it off when he caught the ogre eating from his granary, his whole head stuffed inside the door of the storehouse. His surprise at finding this strange beast's behind glaring at him meant that he dropped his burning torch, setting fire to the granary and Mjourin's lovely hair. "Mjourin's hair, it was oh so fair, until it burned away! Hey hey! This upset poor Mjourin. Whenever he would go to drink water from a stream, he would see the reflection of his bald head. Ogres can be very vain and self-conscious creatures. He could see no other way: He would have to find the perfect hat to replace the luscious locks that once decorated his rounded ol' noggin. "Fiddle-de-dum, and fiddle-de-day, '' ''poor ol' Mjourin' got on his way!" Mjourin saw it fit to begin looking for his replacement comb-over in a busy area. Somewhere on the outskirts of a town in Jacen, he comes across a gent wearing a sugerloaf hat. A dyed pheasant feather was sticking out from the brim, and this fanciful item convinced the ogre to go and snatch the garment. Trundling along on his wee legs, he drew a lot of attention to himself. "Oh my, look how the light doth shine from his skull!" remarked one lady of nobility."It is as bright as a torch in the night!" said another. The man wearing this round topped hat was in so much shock at the sight of the approaching ogre that he merely made a humiliating squee and in panic threw his felt hat in the general direction of Mjourin. The delighted ogre skipped away merrily in front of his gawping audience, placing his trophy firmly above his bald patch as it warmly hugged the forehead with rest of his pate. "Tim-Tam-Tum, he twiddled his thumbs, waiting and waiting and here it comes! Atop a head the hat was spread, '' ''and Mjourin soared over to the green fields of clover, looking to retrieve his prize! The garment did fly in the sky, laying in the hay with a hey-nonny-nay. Mjourin picked it up and he fled, looking around for a comfy bed" Mjourin ran to the nearest stream he could find to admire his reflection. And there it was, as clear as day. His hat was a welcome addition. Suddenly the large hands of a vagrant picked the hat from his cranium. The muddied boots hit his back, knocking him into the damp, staring at his light pink bump. "Oh that ogre did bawl like a babe, '' ''for he had been kicked in the arse by a lowly knave! And alas the hat fell from his grasp, and even a mask would not hide his shame. So goes this tale of felt and fame, and now you must spread the ogre's name."